


Campfire Lullaby

by VideoDame



Series: Signe's Shortstories [10]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Teldryn can absolutely sing and you cant convince me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22668628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VideoDame/pseuds/VideoDame
Summary: Signe has another one of her stress and trauma-induced nightmares, and Teldryn is there to help in an instant.((Technically a re-write of 'Nightmares', because I realized halfway through they were really similar.))
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Teldryn Sero, Teldryn Sero/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Signe's Shortstories [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1008630
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Campfire Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write more Signe and Teldryn stuff after some amazing headcanons by @teldrynserotonin on tumblr! Go check our their blog, they're INCREDIBLE.  
> So sorry it took so long, and yet is so short. Family stuff came up and took most of my attention.
> 
> [[ **TRIGGER WARNING FOR IMMOLATION (burning alive) OF ANIMALS** ]] [[ Skip the first chunk of italicized text to avoid reading this! It's not very in-depth, but its still lightly described. ]]

_Flames lick at the heels of wildlife as they attempt to escape the inferno that has engulfed their home, but to no avail. The fires had already done their damage to the fauna and flora alike, skin and fur melting away to reveal burnt muscle and bone. Antlers of deer were wielding flames like a torch, the fur of wolves and foxes were singed and falling away in clumps, and birds were falling from the skies like living meteorites._

_**Yol.** A whisper in her ear, as soft as a lovers pillow talk. _

_Their wails of pain were deafening to the ear, yet silent all the same, the footfalls never making a sound as they rush past the still Nord woman. Her eyes couldn’t look away from the horrific sight of the scorched evergreen trees, many falling over as their burnt trunks could no longer hold them. Not a single speck of green shown throughout the treeline, all that was left were towering orange flames and blackened, ruined ground where the fires dare not touch the snow her bare feet stood in._

_**Toor.** As quiet as the breeze, brushing the angel curls from her face. She swore she heard her name, a call in the distance, so far that one could miss it. _

_She spots movement in the center of the chaos, on top of a group of boulders that lay untouched by the fires around it. Appearing on top of the rocks was a buck - but it was nothing like the ones she had seen run past her, with flayed and scorched skin, and eyes melting from it’s skull. This buck was entirely bone; embers cover the expanse of the white and soot-coated skeleton, and plumes of black smoke filtered through its jaw and eye sockets. It gazed at her, empty and still, and Signe actually felt a harsh chill run up her spine, despite the intense heat surrounding her._

_**Shuul.** A hiss, harsh and sharp, like pressured steam being released. Her name was called again, and again, and again from the burning inferno. Panicked screams and cries for help, voices of men and mer that were not there. _

_The buck opens its jaw, and more plumes of smoke barrel from it’s maw, the winds carrying it away to the starry night sky. That empty gaze never broke from her own._

“Signe,” a rough voice called to her, and the hand that shook her shoulder in a strong grip snapped her out of her nightmare. Harsh coughs force their way out of her chest, the feeling similar to the ash she would accidentally inhale back on Solstheim. But they were not on Solstheim; they were in the western area of the Rift, near Ivarstead. There was no reason for ash and soot to be in her lungs, yet her body felt the need to reject it all the same. She was in a cold sweat, making the loose hairs stick to her forehead, making her skin cold but her insides so intensely hot. Her eyes flicked wildly to assess her surroundings: no burning trees, no smoking deer skeletons, no whispers or cries… only the colorful nebula above, accompanied by Masser and Secunda, and the concerned face of Teldryn - highlighted by the small flames of their campfire. 

The campfire. It had been nearly a month since she’s had a nightmare similar, and Signe was beginning to hope that Erandur’s help weeks before had cured her for now. Falling asleep too close to it must have been what triggered such a dream, feeling the smoldering heat in her subconscious mind. The realization made her scramble and fumble away from the fire pit, still coughing and wheezing like she had escaped a burning building.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s alright, dear,” Teldryn’s voice reached her ears again, now more low and soothing, compared to his more stern tone when he attempted to wake her before. Since the Nord had retreated from the fire, he used his now free hands to grab a tankard, half full with water they boiled from a nearby stream, from the half-log they choose to use as a bench, and quickly ushers her to drink from it. 

With shaky hands, Signe takes the tankard to drink, though in the end Teldryn had to help her hold it as well. Droplets fell past her chin and dripped onto the thin cloth of her sleep shirt, the lukewarm water felt like ice on her skin, and it was a small relief from the overwhelming heat that was finally beginning to fade as the cool night air engulfed her. Once the tankard was empty, she lightly pushes it away from her lips to take in a deep breath, and Teldryn sets it aside on the log again.

“Another nightmare?” The Dunmer asks softly, moving to sit next to her from his kneeling position. Signe gave him a nod, wiping the water from her mouth, but not saying anything else. Her mind was still groggy and blurred from the traumatic feeling, only enhanced by such fitful sleep.

Teldryn cautiously runs a hand along her back, hoping to soothe his lover little by little till she was able-minded enough to speak. To his surprise, Signe instead let herself lean over into his chest, face burrowed in the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and he had to give a chuckle at such a silent plea for affection. Adjusting himself so she could sit in his lap, his back shielding her from the near-dying fire, he held her close to his chest, keeping the moment silent to allow her to get her bearings straight again.

After a few moments, he finally speaks. “Was it the wildfires again?” 

Signe nods, taking a deep breath as her body relaxes against him. “Fires,” her voice croaks, rough from her heavy coughing. “Animals on fire, burning alive, wailing for help. I feel guilty, being unable to help them, like I couldn’t help my parents,” a small sigh leaves the Nord’s lips, letting herself be comfortingly squeezed. “Have… have I disappointed Kyne? Is this my punishment?”

“No, darling,” Teldryn reassures her. “You remember what Erandur told us. Nightmares are the doing of Vaermina, and we both saw that she has no care for the mental state of others. It could also just be because of the stress you’re always under. Nothing you are seeing is any of your fault.”

The Dragonborn in his arms gives a small hum of acknowledgement, neither happy nor anxious, returning to her state of quietness, physically relaxed now in his hold. All was quiet again around them, with nothing but the sound of crickets and crackling embers mixed with the distant trickles of a nearby stream. It really was a gorgeous night, and the both of them wished their minds were more at ease and clear enough to thoroughly enjoy it. 

Teldryn was emotionally exhausted traveling with his Nord lover. Now, he by no means felt burdened, but there comes a point where nothing seems to truly calm the mind of someone who has experienced such immense horrors and anomalies. She still had some issues with his use of fire magic; even though she has improved so much since he first called her out on her reluctance to be near him in battle, the Dunmer knew he - or anyone - can't completely rid the Dragonborn of her trauma and fears. The only thing he could do was be there for her, to help her keep calm, to ground her and remind her that what terrors she sees or feels isn’t really there. Signe had told him the best thing to do was distract her and direct her attention elsewhere; which explains why she always chose to keep busy on the constant. So, that’s what he planned to do.

 _"Oh my sweet love, she waits for me,”_ Teldryn’s low and soothing voice chimes in, breaking the silence with warm elegance. _"T_ _hrough storm and shine, cross land or sea. I run to her and together we… sway as we kiss, sway as we kiss…”_ His lips are pressed close to her head as he softly sings to her, the end of the verse punctuated with sweet kisses between the braids at her temples. He could feel a small smile against his sleep shirt, knowing a song would cheer her up at least a little. It’s very, very rare for him to sing. 

_"_ _Her graceful shape I heave on high, and in one hand I hold her nigh, her waiting lips are never dry,”_ The mercenary continues, gently swaying them both side to side.

 _"Sway as we kiss, sway as we kiss,”_ A slightly croaky voice emits from the woman in his arms, hoarse from coughing as she joins in the chorus, and Teldryn had never heard a more angelic tune. No bard across all of Tamriel could compare to his winter wildfire of a Nord, even if her throat was in no condition to sing. It brings a grin to his face, and leaves a warmth in his heart.

 _"Come the morn she goes, the taste of her remains, and in my mind, I see us sway,”_ he continues to sing, both to continue the distraction, and to listen to more of that voice; a voice capable of tearing dragons down from the skies, and yet so gently lulls one into a comforting sleep. Her head lifts from its position on his chest, and he’s met with a stunning gaze of turquoise with a ring of gold standing out around her pupils. The long awaited fire within a blizzard. 

_"Sway as we kiss, sway as we kiss,”_ Signe’s voice had evened out with the earlier use, the soothing timbre nearly making the Dunmer melt. She smiles at him, sleepy and oh so beautiful... Teldryn couldn’t help but lean in to kiss the scars to the left of her lips.

“Feeling better?” He asks, his rubbing light patterns onto her back. A deep hum vibrates against him, signaling her content.

Signe rests her head in the crook of his neck, forehead pressed against it as her nose nuzzled his clavicle. “Yeah,” she responds. “Though that song isn’t exactly a lullaby, you know.”

A scoff. “Well I don’t know many lullabies,” Teldryn’s usual roll in his voice returned, sending pleasing shivers up the Dragonborn’s spine. “Unless you’d rather have me recite The Ruddy Man to you after such an episode?”

That got a snicker out of the Nord, a finger lightly jabing him in the stomach, making him flinch with an amused huff. “No thanks, I’m not about your creepy children’s rhymes from Morrowind,” she teases, leaning up to place a kiss against his throat. “Thank you, _sæti_ *, for the song. It really helped to comfort me.”

“Of course, darling. Do you think you can sleep again? Or should we switch off for night watch?” The mercenary asks softly, pressing more kisses to her hair. His grip never let up, suggesting he didn’t plan on getting up or letting her go anytime soon regardless of her answer. 

Signe didn’t feel like moving, anyway. Not when his embrace was so warm, his heartbeat comforting, and his kisses soothing her back to the point of dozing off. “Mmm...no, I think I can try and get s’more sleep,” she rumbles. “As long as you keep holding me.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” Teldryn cooed at her, one hand reaching up to smooth her hair with petting. “I’ll be right here, keeping an eye on things, and kissing that adorably sleepy face of yours,” he teases, though he was absolutely telling the truth, emphasizing the fact with a kiss to her forehead. The giggle Signe gave him plucked his heart strings like a bard with a lute.

For as long as she lets him, Teldryn will make sure nothing ever harms her again. Not anything, nor anyone, less they fancy a sword through the chest.

**Author's Note:**

> [ * ] Sæti - [Old Norse / Icelandic] Masculine term of endearment meaning "Sweetie / cutie"


End file.
